


Even lies are pretty from your lips

by AmeLee23



Series: Keith's Straight Love Stories [11]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Best Friends, Cheating, Crying, Description Heavy, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Feelings, French Kissing, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Keith (Voltron) is a Good Boyfriend, Keith (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Lazy Mornings, Mild Smut, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Neck Kissing, Some Humor, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, a lot of kissing tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 21:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16648061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmeLee23/pseuds/AmeLee23
Summary: Years of suffering, of living in lies and hiding feelings. Keith finally makes a change by breaking his best friend’s mind and values.





	Even lies are pretty from your lips

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt:  
> How about a keith x reader story where the reader and keith have an affair behind the back of the reader's abusive(emotional or physical) boyfriend?

The air smelled the same, the corridors forever packed with all-age children and soon to be adults, the forever lasting sound of squeaky purple lockers, the same weight of books on her shoulder. But more so, the same feeling of uneasiness and urge to look behind her shoulder; only Gods would be able to tell, ahead of time- ahead of actions and decisions - that today something was about to change.

She recognized a few faces, waved some people off, her footing tangled with others' as she made her way through the crowd of people. A man held open the door for her, she didn't quite place him. It didn't matter; or it shouldn't, she could give more than a smile and thank you, but what would that bring her?  The stairs of the back door led, one by one to the open parking lot, where cars' lights lit up sequentially. The engine whirls differed, like every human does,  and they took off. If you're slower or faster, lighter or heavier, cheaper or pricier, why should you label it? The taste in her mouth was bitter, a long lick across a metal bar. One's life sums up to what they do, you reap what you sow; but how is it she reaps what someone else sowed, and can't touch her own fruits?

Keith was talking to a boy, a swift conversation, but it took him no more than a few moments to spot her and call her name, bringing a shivering fear at the sound. She hurried her pace to him, with her eyes to the shine of his motorcycle, red and black, freshly cleaned. She could tell it's scent from a glance, and the warmth of its seat. Keith had become; in all his entirety, with everything that belonged to him and his spirit - a breathing, living memory of what she once was. Seeing him made the dead walk, brought the thrill of horrific joy to her bones. Where had time go and what it brought, questions encompassed by the shivering light of today and the slip of time itself in the present moment.

He smiled, not shyly but not assertive either, a masked honey with a touch of soy. It was a delicious combination, but it ought to leave you yearning more.

"Hey." A charismatic greeting with the nod of his head, leaning his fingers on the metal of his one and only vehicle - he had named her Thunder, because of how scared his best friend was of it as first. Those adorable days - in which he pleaded, ensured her thousands of times that she wouldn't slip of the ledges and roll down the roads, until she agreed to trust her life into his hands and taste, and savor the gust of wind on the freeway. A crackle of thunder, a loud sudden sound was what his best friend was to him, but lately she only roared in the distance, echoing a soft cry that he wanted to embrace, to hug and kiss with a love unknown to him. She looked around the parking lot, to her right, to her left, behind her and beyond and through Keith, standing on the tip of her toes. She let her shoulders drop, her backpack on the ground with an uncaring thump and ultimately found Keith's features, examining them as if she hadn't seen him in years.

"Hey, Keith."  A darker dash of blue in his eyes today, than any other, probably because his eyes seemed to change along with the weather, the light, the sky.  It had rained, the streets were dark and light scarce, but it was a sad day like all others. If the sun was outright bursting or the rays peeled off their skin, it wouldn't have made a difference.

"You don't need to look both way before greeting me, you know that? Your boyfriend's not a car." She could tell it wasn't intended as a joke, as Keith barely joked around with her anymore. She knew- they both knew they were consumed by this fact, by this man that ruled her life. Keith meant well, but this peculiar scenario began rolling in her head; he was, indeed, a car. Speeding towards her at all costs, crashing into her ideals and decisions, to bind her to a hospital bed that could easily be a metaphor for her life. She was sick. Of everything.

"Yeah, thank you for giving me nightmare fuel, bud." She played her card, but Keith wasn't amused. He frowned further - lately it was his stock and store when around her.

"Things are still the same, huh?" There it was again, his passive- aggressive remarks that severed skin instead of cutting to the bone. Somehow, multiple surficial cuts weighted more pain than a single, scarring one. It didn't even need a verbal confirmation, the question wasn't needed either, just put out there for courtesy, or maybe an audible monologue.

"I don't understand why you're not doing anything about it." She looked at him, not a single word on her lips or a thought passing through, her mind blank. It was an apology, but she knew she had no reason to say sorry to him out of all people. So she bit her lip, with a boil of a feeling - probably anger, maybe sorrow.

"What could I do?" In her imagination, anything was possible. From searching the sky for lost lovers' letters, to riding a tiger in the quiet Antarctic. But reality was so much more cruel, dashing with a sparkle of broken trust. Close the door. Open the book. Write a note. Forget everything.

"Break up with him. Leave his house. Go back to your parents. Become yourself again." It didn't take him long to answer, an instantaneous reflex.  Like a woodpecker stagnant on the same tree for months; Keith only seemed to latch onto the idea of bringing back her old self, feeding upon it. He filled his stomach with all those undoubted truths, that would ultimately bloat him and kill him. Or maybe, one day, that tree would wither and leave no more nutritional value.

"It'd seem cowardly." A new day, a new excuse  - not that it was brand new in any way, but perhaps it has been a long time since she last used it. It kept their conversations fresh and active, even if they talked about such an unwanted subject, like having one too many math classes a week. She linked this cowardice to the crack of a fireplace, proving that they for sure have spoken this same topic, maybe last summer.

"How in the world is that cowardly? Dude doesn't even acknowledge he's hurting you!  He's being a manipulative jerk just because he's scared to lose you-" She dreaded that sound. The screech his fingers made when he clenched them and dragged them on the paint of the motorcycle, along with the raise in his tone. He had a strongly convincing, practiced anger in his features that made him all the more beautiful, but broke him in all the ways possible. Why must it be a hurdle in their relationship, why must he yell at his best friend? Why must she be so strong, so calm and take it like it was nothing? What was even the point of all this suffering?

He could easily drop her, in the wide ocean, leave her drown on her own. Except, every single morning, he finds her breathless on the shore,  at the limit of the water and the land. If only she could walk out of it on her own, but with every sunrise, the scales on her tail shine a marine blue. Must it be her voice, that forbidden song of lost fishermen  that she sings after he gives her back her breath, that always convinces him to let her swim away. Out of his grasp, a secret, a mystical encounter of everyday that he couldn't share or change, but maybe one day he'd let her die. He could see it - he wouldn't even dig a grave. He'd mourn the existence of nothing in particular, until everything became a dream. But he quietly listens, to that broken, reversed song, because her presence in itself is a gift. Even if she was meant for the ocean and not for the footsteps in the sand; even if the mark of her resting place on the shore was washed by the waves, for those scarce hours, he had her.

"Keith." Whenever she called his name, it meant he had said enough. _Stop_ , she says. The urge to keep going is strong, to see her cry finally, once and for all.

"Look, I'm sorry- But this isn't just about you and him anymore. Your best friend is lonely and hurtin'." He wasn't lying, although it did seem like the perfect excuse to make her feel bad. The perfect scalpel to open up healed wounds and make her bleed further. But Keith wouldn't lie. He wouldn't, and couldn't stoop that low. She approached him, a foot between his even, leaning her forehead on his chest. She didn't touch him much, and there was a big gap, of approximately six inches between them, but it felt enough. She knew Keith wasn't a man of words, but of actions. It was a risky move, with paranoia seeping into her bones, but there were some boundaries she would break, things she would sacrifice for Keith. It wasn't all selfless either, as the feeling of being held by someone that only meant your well-being was the kind of reassurance she sought. He brought a homely smell; he used a much softer, less sharp perfume, that let the scent of his own sweat mix in. He wasn't all in her face, he was subtly human, manly.

"I'm sorry, Keith." He hummed and patted her back, acting somewhat distant. It was his revenge; he pretended to be there absentmindedly, while his other hand searched for something in the storage unit of the motorcycle. Before she knew it, she was moved away from Keith's body and a helmet was pushed onto her head. Keith hastened her chinstrap and mounted his vehicle.

"When does he get off?" He put on his own helmet, straightened his jacket and rearranged his leather gloves. He always did that before starting up the engine.

"In an hour."

"An hour is enough time. Hop on, we're going somewhere else to talk." Could she say that she dreaded the idea? That there wasn't merely enough time to get home safely? After so much time of letting herself be guided by another's man words, maybe it had washed off on her. She wouldn't say no to Keith.

It was funny, how there was no more fear involved. How she came to enjoy, to cherish those little rides, as seldom as they were, without giving it much thought; that a single wrong turn could lead to both of their demise. Is that what trust meant? Everything was her fault. Trusting the wrong people a little too much, getting fooled by the sense of false nursing and repair. She's thankful of him, of the young days when she was 'saved' from bad habits, brought to the right path. But unfortunately, she was taken on the right path of _someone else_. He seems to have forgotten, that she had a say in her future, in her career. All that talk of dream jobs, travelling after high-school is over, empty promises of selfish desires. What if she didn't want to become him, out of all people? Love was love, but identity was just as solid, so no matter how much they'd become one, she'll never be him.

She liked to imagine, laying in her bed, in the deadest of dead nights, when the pitter patter of rain sang, out to the world yet hidden in an stale jazz club, with a beautiful black lady snapping her fingers to the rhythm. Fantasizing, even with him next to her, in his poor, wicked slumber, of a faint breathy snore - the kind of snore you'll get to love with time, as it brought you back home, in your father's arms, in the embrace of a man you love; but a sound so crushing to the ears, it became, in the span of time, killingly annoying to entice only hatred. She was a private, upon a ship bigger than could have been measured, cutting the waves unscathed, yet the air so dense and oddly packed with nitroglycerin that even the tiniest uncalculated breath could rinse its ashes in the ocean. Two people on this ship and nothing more - a captain with his medals up for show, not on his shirt but pinched into his chest; a living, breathing part of this man, and a soldier, petite and up to the captains command. Never could she earn a badge, never could she touch or rather see the wheel, pull the string to the horn; announce she wanted off. A life of stagnancy in the movement of the water, she couldn't know what was beyond it, how the grass smells, what lies beyond the blue line of the ocean. She didn't ever see an iceberg, a shark, a storm of any kind. Such a simple life, void of danger but filled with such a sense of adventure, a curiosity to never be fulfilled. Mere cold meals in an empty dining room - even the tables, of old, cold metal screamed to be changed, left off this undying ride. "Just me and my captain." Such a romantic, intimate concept, becoming a curse, handcuffing her to the grind of a life she didn't want.

It all seemed so simple; there was a revolver on deck, sometimes in plain sight, resting on top of satin bed covers. A single pull to the trigger could end everything. The captain would be dead, his title would be hers, she'd stir the wheel to the lands. She'd crash the ship into it, even if it killed her, at least she would have died free. However, the hope was still there, that one day, she'd take out the medals out of his chest - but wouldn't that pop his veins?- and no one would be stirring, life would take its course, and they'd be truly together, not two souls in one body.

The entirety of the ride she bit her tongue, wanting to ask Keith why they're headed to his house. Not only was it far away, but it also brought a sense of confinement; if they were to talk there, she'd feel pressured all the more. Reluctant steps onto his porch, why was this happening? Why was Keith so against her hopeless hope?

"Want some coffee?" Keith played it cool, while her heart quacked on his red sofa in the living room. She nodded, maybe that could win her some time. In the best scenario, she could make the excuse of having to get home in 30 minutes - her house was far away as well, ten minutes then she'll go-

"You're shaking." He spoke from the doorframe, resting his shoulder on it. She didn't want to let it show, but it surely was obvious. She looked terrified. The stare she maintained with Keith was horribly painful. The coffee machine brewed in the distance of the kitchen, but the question was, when had Keith gotten a coffee machine?

"Can you listen to me for just a bit?" _Can you listen to me for just a bit?_ The question played in her mind, but it wasn't coming from Keith's lips. He always said that, making her feel like she wasn't understanding something, once again, proving to her that she was the underling under his protective wing.

Keith pretended not to see her flinch, and held her hands in his, sitting on the sofa. He probably had taken off his gloves in the kitchen, as now they were missing. He had beautiful, long, bony fingers.

"Love isn't fear, baby doll. Love isn't for two people to become one, but to live together as one. Love is about understanding and accepting one's differences, thus not wanting to change a thing and appreciating who they are." She could tell he was genuine, spoke from his heart or maybe one of his father's old quotes, but had no idea where this all came from. Or why this came, more so to speak.

"How would you know? You never had a lover and all you do is have one night stands." She felt bad after saying it, but still maintained her glare, however, Keith found it adorable. He smiled.

"And by the absence of it I can tell love when I see it." It was ridiculous, what he was enticing. He had no right to speak, yet he was. His voice would soon turn to white noise again, like every other day.

"And there's no love between the two of you anymore. Get over it, please. It's only human to fall out of love."

Harpooned between the rocks and corals of the ocean bed. Caught in a fishnet of tight loops. A fishhook hanging from her bottom lip, bleeding on the carpet. An animal with humid eyes pleading before the hunter with a cocked gun. The end was unavoidable, but she wanted to die slowly, of hunger or poisoning if she could. Never minding the coffee machine noise in the background, she got up from the couch and prepared to leave. What was another cup of wasted cold coffee?

"I think I should leave. I need to be home soon."  Keith got up and stood in front of her, blocking the way not with his arms, but with the cold stare in his eyes. Looking down on her like a disrespectful child.

"I'm not done talking." He pushed her back down by the shoulders, sitting down very close to her body. Without a warning, her hand is snatched and tangled with his, using it to softly turn her around to him.  His eyes on her changed colour again, an alien hue to match the feeling she was receiving. She felt ashamed that in that moment she could only think of Keith as a man, a nice-cut face staring her down into a puddle. It was noticeable, that his fragrance was dissolving closer into the air, his breath on her lips. She was aware of what he was about to do, but stood her ground in the hopes he would stop.

His fingers stabilizing her chin as their lips touched, so soft and shaky it felt like he was crying. It's been years since they last kissed, and it was never serious, it never meant nothing more than fun. He was her first kiss and she was his, but this - this brought back memories. It reminded her of a childish wish, of a little girl running around catching butterflies with a net. She seemed to be successful, and joyful cries filled her ears. Eyes shaky yet calm, fixed on her orbs, he kissed the hand that was united with his as well. It brought her heart out on the operating table, two boxes of donors open next to her. A moving zombie, she reached for them, as if to transplant it herself, but she didn't know which one was Keith and which was her boyfriend's. Only one could live on through her.

"Keith, do you like me?" Why had it to be like this? Why did Keith suddenly feel empowered by these words, like the whistle of a track run start?

"Do I like you? I like the old you, not this fake label you've put on for him." He, who talked about acceptance, was shaming her for changing. It didn't make sense, but to him it did; for he knew, if she was his there would be no change.

"I liked the you that carried umbrellas for no apparent reason and refused to open them when it was pouring, the you that pulled pranks inside 7/11, the you that scoffed at teachers, the you that hanged around the backdoor of clubs just to spend time with your friends because you didn't have a fake ID. The you that gave me courage, that led me to live life with passion." Somewhere in the middle of his rant, she retracted her hand from his grip. He didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he was used to letting her go.

"I liked it when, without an official statement, you were mine but belonged to the city and the night." It was all true, it was all right. She really loved the days when only the passing of time could control her. When there was no sense of belonging.

"If you'd give me that privilege one more time, at least for a day or a night, I could show you what happiness really is." It didn't process completely in her mind, what he had just said. She didn't want to think about it, to give chance to this cheating of feelings that weren't even there; Keith was right, he always knew better. But she continued lying.

"I really think I should go.." She was already late home, and she knew what that meant. Disappointed stares and cold words, screaming and less liberty to even show a smile in that dusty air.

"You're not leaving anywhere until I'm done. You can hate me all you want when you step out of this house." Once again, Keith stopped her. This time he was angrier, and was ready to catch her and pin her down if needed. The damage was already done, the consequences will be there either way, and she didn't want to argue no more. The coffee machine beeped, and somewhere on the second floor an open window was squeaking.

"Answer me truthfully; do you really like it? Staying home all day, confined in your room studying for long due exams? Getting only perfect grades and being called dumb when you're not? Striving for a future that you didn't choose? Do you really want to go travelling the world with him, become a scientist and hop inside a spaceship?" The perfect questions, relevant and to the point, a dumb summary to her life. A song played on an old vinyl, spinning endlessly win a pin stuffed into it. It hurt, and she would do anything to make that wretched melody stop, put an end to the broken record that she's become.

"No." Silence. The record abruptly let out a cry of defeat, but so did she. She couldn't even look him in the eye; out of all days, who thought it would be today she breaks down and slips a truth?

"Then why do you stand by him? Because he has money? A caring and loving family? Or do you feel indebted for when he saved you from your bad habits, our bad habits, and turned you into a honor student?"

_'Shame me, break me apart, hurt me, do it right so I could let go. I fell for the man that took me away from you. I became a role model, but not of myself.'_

"Are you really thankful to him? Do you never regret meeting him sometimes? So you could have followed your heart, and we could have learnt how to be better people, together? Do you never miss the feel of total freedom, of doing illegal things, of taking life for what it is and choosing to smile through it in our own way?" The flashing lights, the warmth of the fire, the link of people around her arms, the honk of cars, the smell of candles and ashes, the admiration of people while she was screaming, running around, smiling like a dumb child; the words of people when she was praised for finally nailing a subject in school. The undying support, the soft voice and side hairs of her best friend, his breath that used to never go to waste. Where had they went? Why didn't she have them anymore?

Only hot tears answered her questions. The couch didn't protest being hit, punched by her anger. Her throat yelled, her shoulders jolted and her fingers dug into Keith's legs. He pulled her closer, cradling her small frame to his chest. Her voice muffled as she screamed, as she drooled, cried and run her nose on Keith's shirt. It would be washed later.

"Fuck, I do! I hate it! It's not just because studying is hard, fuck that! I hate being who he wants me to be, I don't want to, don't want to..." Her cracked voice that spoke the truth, her painful, salty tears brought a smile to Keith's lips. He will regret this later, but now he couldn't help but be selfishly proud of himself. If by breaking her she could be fixed, he'll take all the blame.

"I know, baby doll, I know. Cry it out."  Propped up on the couch, he let himself fall down and pulled her on his lap. He didn't care if he was a giant teddy bear for mental reassurance, he let her wrap tightly around every inch of him and sob. Every time she would go quiet, she'd start again. And every time she did so, he would kiss her hair. He could imagine what went through her mind, how many scenarios passed and made her cry again and again. He was lucky he left a blanket around, and wrapped it around both of them. It wasn't cold, but it was for comfort. He would bring the coffee as well, but God knew he couldn't move out of there.

Her long awaited calm came late, after they listened to the repeat of her phone ringtone one too many times, after Keith put her phone on silent, after both her sleeves and Keith's shirt were filled of different fluids. She shied away, as if Keith was the forgotten sun she couldn't see from her cave. He held her face high, caressing her like she was perfect. It made her feel like nothing was ever wrong to begin with.

"Would you believe me if I said I love you?"  She trusted one man with those words before, did it make sense to do it again? No, but it was simpler. Simple was what she was looking for, no more hustle life. Would it be the wrong decision, again? She'd be damned if it was, because this time it meant the world to her. Frankly, Keith always meant more. His smile, the one he was wearing in that moment, the gentle eyes and sparkle, his happiness- those truly meant the moon and the stars. She nodded and tangled her hands in his hair, that sexy mess of bangs and curls.

"And would you let me prove it?" She shut his mouth, those damn lips she's been looking at for years, those sharp teeth on her lips and foul tongue. She wanted, desperately, to lose herself in everything he had and was. The blanket fell off, the smell of forgotten coffee kissed their bare skin as they removed their shirts. Keith picked her up and brought her to the bedroom, upstairs, to the safety of his bed. Never breaking the kisses, they felt each other, they completed all the gaps. It wasn't just two people humping each other, it was a competition; one of who shows their great love better. Taking off her pants, he went down on her, taking in her smell and hidden treasures. That tongue, those fingers. Those moans that she let out. Fueled by nothing but passion, it got unbearable.  His shaft inside her with a whine, he snapped his hips back and forth. She was topped by his body, trapped by his arms, tickled by his hair tips, kissed by his lips and melted by his eyes.

Sometime in the mood, Keith asked her what she likes. She told him to stand and put his thighs together, and she lifted her hips on top of them. She seemed euphoric about the angle, but Keith seemed to get stuck. She was so beautiful, crude and real, sprawled on his bed. He forgot his dick was inches inside her, he forgot to move. Soon enough, he'd forget to breathe because of her. Any normal man would want to ravish her, but he couldn't. More than anything, he wanted to be ravished by how much he loved and wanted her, the thought of finishing was painful. Needless to say, she surely wasn't going home after this. He chuckled at her hands searching for his arms and her impatience, and fucked her deeper, later putting her on his thighs and squeezing her shoulders, only for her to do the same.

That fervor, heat, flame- they danced around it like a tribe, their wooden pearl necklaces bouncing with their hastened step, always moving all around it; but never too close. They tapped their feet on a warm sand, not from the Savanna nor the continents of the planet, but somewhere else, in a world probably nonexistent. They clapped, sang a blasphemous song to the most vicious of forces; so that it mightn't cease, the ashes forever young and expanding, wood from the bones of whoever dared cross such saint, tainted territory. Never touching the fire - but what if they did? It wouldn't matter; it was of such innocence, unharmful in the ways adulthood could not provide, a glistening shine in the eyes of someone who was more than ready to appreciate the world, to love and be loved.

To Keith's displeasure, she didn't want to wait around and cuddle. In just a few minutes, in the time Keith was naked and dozing off, she freshened herself in his bathroom and came to him, pleading, waking him up with a smile that could make him forgive anything. His shirt hugging her body, her arms around his leather jacket on the seat of his motorcycle, engine screaming on the empty streets of the night. Keith's pride while he presented her to their old friends, which she hasn't seen in years, their laughs filling coffee shops, deserted backstreets and bars. The night was young, the city was big and begged to be explored, the toxin in their blood urging them to never mind the pain in their feet. Flipping car drivers off, they ran on the streets and threw cigarette butts on the pavement, shuffling their feet to every song that seemed remotely interesting. Keith pushed her into a wall and made out with her in front of all their friends, but she didn't frankly care. Even if the whole town saw, so be it. She was dating her freedom now, and got drunk on the feeling of being appreciated, hugged, kissed, praised and called the sexiest of pet names.

It was around 5 am when they came back, to Keith's warm, welcoming home. They crashed directly, Keith only in his boxers and she in Keith's shirt, braless. It was too hot in there, and they couldn't pretend like they didn't kiss until their lids got too heavy to keep open. Way past noon, Keith woke up cursing at the sun. He turned over to see her biting her fingernails and staring at her phone's screen.

"I see you." She didn't jump, but looked at him like a lost puppy. He draped a comforting arm over her waist and scooted closer, his newly opened eyes struggling to focus on the light of the phone.

"27 missed calls? Woah, he's persuasive." She deleted her call history, without any kind of regret. Then she opened the messenger with a frown. There wasn't any harm anymore, just pure confusion as to how to end that already dead chapter of her life.

"How do I break up with him?" Keith seemed amused, and cleared his throat with a cocky attitude.

"I'll have someone pick up my stuff soon. We're breaking up, have a nice life jack-ass." To his surprise, she typed his exact words and then tapped send, turning off her screen and placing the phone away.

"You'll pick up my stuff for me?" She turned to him, hugging his bare skin.

"Of course I will. You're not stepping near that rich-ass apartment ever again. Say goodbye to luxury, babygirl." She giggled, the thought of luxury being irrelevant. The rich of man was and forever will be love and nothing else. She buried her nose in Keith's chest.

"And if you still need help with school, I know a guy. He's a graduate and _is_ a scientist. He's super friendly and nice, known him half my life." Truth be told, he wanted to introduce her to Matt long ago. He didn't want to use his friend as a method to rid his crush of her boyfriend, but God damn he would have done it.

"I just want to make sure you won't ever think of needing that asshole again." She couldn't express how much she appreciated that, but would rather like if he didn't mention him again.

"That if you don't want to transfer from the Garrison, of course. I'll wholeheartedly support you if you wanna move." Was her hate for the space program really deep rooted? Was it because of how it was force-fed to her? She couldn't decide, but transfer wasn't available at that time of the year anyways. She had time to decide. In the happiness this fuzzy feeling brought her, tomorrow didn't matter.

"I-  Give me some time, please. I feel like I just grew a brain for the first time."  Keith laughed, rubbing his forehead on hers.

"I always knew you were a mummy; just pop open the lid and put the brain back through the nostrils." She laughed with starvation, and for the first time ever, at that close distance, with his lips risen in a smile, she observed his tiny, almost nonexistent facial hairs. His humanity was unbelievably real.

"Never knew sex made you funnier." She joked back, and Keith attacked physically, smoldering her neck in ticklish kisses.

"I take great offence to that, you know?" She showed him her tongue, and he couldn't help but take it between his lips. Their desire for each other was too wholesome.

"What am I gonna do about school?" It was the last thing Keith wanted to think about, but a part of being a lover is being supportive. He ate away the sigh on her lips and rubbed her ear.

"Just lie that you were sick or something." He would know.

"But they're gonna call my parents."

"I'm pretty sure they're used to it considering all the crazy shit we used to do when skipping school two years ago."

"I don't want to lie anymore." Now it was his turn to sigh; what were lies in the face of happiness?

"I understand that. But we can all three agree that even lies are pretty from your lips." She squealed and slapped his chest loudly, but Keith didn't care. He kissed her, with the top of his lips, short pecks all over her mouth.

"Pretty lips." He kissed her some more, until he felt her getting into it. Then he pulled away, holding her with an arm tight around her shoulders. The mood was too fluffy, too romantic.

"I'll be your only truth, fuck everyone else." His words bounced off the walls, an echo that seemed to confuse her.

"You always were." That flipped his switch, and soon she was mauled by French kisses, their hands intertwined with her hips on top of his. He'll forever love the view. His hungry mouth was left open when she separated from his and stood up.

"Keith, let's make love again. Let's go to the forest and get drunk under the stars. Let's skip town for a week and pretend we were _both_ sick." She held both their tangled hands to her chest, with a grin that could blind a man. _Things were alright now._

"Oh, fuck yeah."

_I found myself in you._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oof, no time no see! Been really busy with life stuff (And Got7 Amino, lmao)  
> As said on Tumblr, the writing style was inspired by the book "Call me by your name", which is seriously the best romance existent to be honest.  
> I'm really proud of it, proud mamma be developing her skill :))  
> Thank you for reading, and as always, don't forget to leave a review or just say hi to me ❤️
> 
> Happy Yugyeom day to all my Ahgase out there~ #NoOneElseButYugyeomDay


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